Concerning Autobots
by ultharkitty
Summary: G1, Dysfunction AU. A series of one-shot drabbles and ficlets about Autobots. Could involve any character. See individual headers for ratings and content advice.
1. Flying, Bumblebee

**Title:** Flying  
**Continuity:** G1  
**Rating:** PG  
**Content advice:** implied slash  
**Disclaimer:** Just playing in the sandbox, characters not mine.  
**Characters:** Bumblebee  
**Summary:** Bee misses his Cybertronian alt.  
**Notes:** Written for the **tf_speedwriting** prompt 'Task: a flashback'.

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Bumblebee missed flying. On Cybertron, he'd been equipped to hover. Not an airframe, exactly, but his rounded wings and wide flat base sent him zooming effortlessly above the endless, smooth metallic roads.

The yearning hurt. He loved his new form, with its bouncing tires and the thrill of ground-based acceleration. But as for the old one, the one he'd worn for countless thousands of vorns, it was like a friend he would never see again.

He tried not to think about it, but the more he forced it out of his mind, the more it returned in flashes of memory, fragments of files playing unbidden at the oddest of moments.

In the briefing room, while he should have been listening to Optimus: a vision of hurtling along the Iacon highway, racing Wheeljack in celebration of a small victory against the Decepticons.

Hidden behind a stalagmite in the Ark, pistol aimed at an enemy intruder: a crash in the outskirts of Polyhex just before the war, no one's fault but his own, his pride and wings dented.

On the cusp of recharge, warm and safe, a red arm slung across him, a small horn jabbing the side of his neck: stench of smoke and burning rubber, a buzz of elation; then a rush of fuel and coolant as he transformed and sped away, a tetra jet in flames behind him, enemy plans stashed safely in his cockpit.

His doors ached as though the metal could be remoulded into wings. And it could, it was physically possible, but it wasn't right. They lived on Earth now, and he needed his Earth alt mode. He shouldn't pine for something he could never have back.

He considered telling Ratchet about the flashbacks, but Ratchet might try to cure him. They were so much more vivid than ordinary memory, so much more powerful and immersive. They were the last vestige of his old and faithful friend, and the thought of losing them entirely was too much to bear.


	2. Gotta dream, Ratchet and humans

**Title:** A Mech's Gotta Dream

**Rating:** G

**Genre:** cracky genfic

**Characters:** Spike, Sparkplug, Chip, Ratchet

**Summary:** Spike's bored, and decides to ask his dad a question.

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"Dad?" Spike said.

"Yeah?" Sparkplug's voice was muffled, his top half swallowed by the inner workings of Teletraan One. "What's up, son?"

Spike toed the ground, hands in his pockets. He had no idea how, in a crashed alien spaceship full of giant robot aliens, he could possibly be this bored. But he was. "When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Ratchet flashed him a kind smile, then went back to soldering. Spike wasn't sure what he was working on, but it looked complicated. At a smaller table, Chip laboured over another part of the same device, his attention wholly absorbed.

"I dunno," Sparkplug replied. There was the sound of metal knocking against metal. "Think I wanted to be a car mechanic for a while, work on classic models."

"Instead, you got us," Ratchet said.

"Well, you Iare/i kinda classic," Sparkplug laughed. "But yeah, Spike, I fell into engineering by accident. Why'd you ask?"

iBecause I'm bored out of my tiny little mind/i, Spike thought. iEveryone else has something to do, and I don't./i "Uh, no reason," he replied. "Just interested."

"What about you?" Chip said, not looking up from his work. Spike opened his mouth to respond about half a second before he realised that the question wasn't aimed at him. He shut it again, trying to make it look like a yawn.

Ratchet propped the soldering iron in its stand, a curious expression on his face.

"What kind of a question's that?" Sparkplug called, his lower half vanishing after the rest of him. "You know he was never a kid!"

"I dunno," Ratchet said. "When I was new off the conveyor, I did some pretty dumb things."

"Ha!" Sparkplug's voice echoed. "I bet you did!"

Spike perked up; he'd heard of Ratchet's stories, but had never been lucky enough to be around when they got told. Chip also looked interested, although he was still tinkering with the circuit boards.

"Wouldn't call any of them the work of a mature adult," Ratchet mused. "But yes, Chip's question…"

Spike un-perked.

"I was built as a medic," Ratchet said. "It's in my programming. It's all I wanted to be back when I was new, the best damned medic there ever was." He shrugged and offered Chip the same kind smile he'd given to Spike a minute or so before. "But your core programming only dictates your dreams for so long. I still wanted to be a medic, hard luck if I didn't, but I used to get these urges, still do sometimes, like I'd make a really great party planner."

Chip snickered, and Sparkplug's laugher rang through the maintenance space.

"A party planner?" Spike said, trying to look as though he'd known it was a joke all along.

Ratchet shrugged. "A mech's gotta dream."


	3. Quest, Grimlock, Daniel and more

**Title:** The quest for Batman's missing head

**Continuity:** G1 - Season 3

**Rating:** G

**Content advice:** crack, fluff, very silly

**Characters and/or pairings:** Daniel, Grimlock, Scattershot, First Aid, Carly

**Summary:** Daniel has lost something, and Grimlock helps him find it. Scattershot and First Aid somehow get roped in along the way.

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"It's gone," Daniel sniffed. Grimlock wasn't sure what 'it' was, but the human's lower lip was trembling.

"What are gone?" Grimlock asked. He ducked low to peer into Daniel's room. "Me Grimlock not see anything."

"That's cause it's not there!" Daniel suffled loudly and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. He looked up at Grimlock, his eyes glistening. "I looked _everywhere!_"

"What you Daniel look for?" Grimlock asked. "Me Grimlock good at finding. Me help."

Daniel shuffled from foot to foot. "I lost the head," he said quietly. He held up something small and black for Grimlock's inspection, his lip wobbling again. "_I lost Batman's head!_"

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Scattershot paused outside the humans' quarters. Inside, something screeched. He was sure metal wasn't meant to make that sound. Not indoors, anyway, and certainly not around their human friends.

He unholstered his pistol in case (hope) of Decepticon shenanigans, and crept through the main door towards the source of the disconcerting noises.

"I think I see it!" a small voice called. "But I can't reach!"

Scattershot lowered his weapon. "What on Cybertron's going on here?" he said. Because it looked like Grimlock was pulling up the floor of Daniel's room. And it looked like Daniel was inside the floor, scrabbling about, covered in dust and oil. But that couldn't be right.

"Hey!" Grimlock roared happily. He stood in robot mode over a gaping space between the floor joists, a bent and buckled metal sheet in each hand. Daniel's bed was invisible under his displaced carpet, and his bookcase lay on its back in the corner. "You Scattershot hold this! Me Grimlock need to lower him Daniel down hole."

"Uh," Scattershot said. He looked from Grimlock to Daniel, whose bare feet wiggled as he tried to edge himself deeper between the floor joists, and back to Grimlock again. "OK." He laid his gun on the carpet-covered bed, and took the edges of the floor plates. "Why are we doing this?"

Grimlock knelt across two joists and took a hold of Daniel's legs. "Him Daniel lose him head," he said, as though it was obvious. "Me Grimlock help him find it."

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"Are that it?" Grimlock's voice echoed around the humans' quarters, causing First Aid to pause.

"No!" a tiny voice wailed in response. "It's an old cog!"

First Aid flicked to the next table on his data pad. Ah Grimlock, such a gentle giant of a war machine, and so good with the humans.

"What about that?" Grimlock boomed.

"Uh," a new voice began, sounding far less sure of itself. First Aid recognised it as Scattershot. "I think that's a Quintessonian matter-transport delivery key?"

"Ugh," Grimlock sighed.

"There's something else!" Daniel yelled. "But I can't get at it, that wall's in the way!"

First Aid froze, then winced as a tremendous screeching whine tore through the building. Surely Scattershot wouldn't have allowed...

"It better now?" Grimlock asked.

Scattershot groaned. "I can't believe you just did that."

"Me Grimlock strong!"

"Right on!" Daniel yelled. "You sure are!"

First Aid turned off the datapad, and headed in the direction of the voices.

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Carly rolled her shoulders. Man, was it good to be out of that spacesuit. Next stop, a nice hot bath with lots of bubbles, and maybe a glass of wine.

"I almost got it!" Daniel yelled.

Before Carly could wonder what 'it' was, the floor shook beneath her feet and a worrying metallic groaning shuddered through the air.

"I don't know," someone said, and that someone sounded suspiciously like First Aid. "We've salvaged nineteen objects here so far, none of which are Daniel's missing head, and all of them look rather old. I'm not sure how it could have gone so far."

Carly gaped. Daniel's missing _what?_

"We find _something_," came a voice that could only have been Grimlock. "That are better than nothing, right? Scattershot, me are right, right?"

"Uh, sure?" Scattershot didn't sound sure at all. And neither was Carly. The thing she was most unsure about was whether she wanted to know what three giant robots and her son were doing in his room.

When she got there, she was certain she didn't want to know.

"Hey mom!" Daniel called from a very deep hole in what appeared to be the wall of the storey below. Grimlock lay outstretched on what remained of the floor, with First Aid sitting on his legs, and one arm down the hole. It was from this arm that her son dangled upside down. Scattershot stood to one side, holding the battered edges of what used to be the floor, looking confused.

"OK," Carly said. "You're about to give me an explanation, and it's going to be a good one."

"Of course!" First Aid said, at the same time that Scattershot said, "Actually, I don't know..." and Grimlock said, "Me Grimlock not drop him!"

"I lost Batman's head!" Daniel called. "It's OK, mom, they're helping me find it."

Carly sighed. Why were things never simple with giant robots? "It's in the kitchen," she said. "On top of the fridge, where you left it."


	4. Matrix, Ultra Magnus and Rodimus

**Title:** Matrix

**Content advice:** introspective, gen

**Characters and/or pairings:** Ultra Magnus, Rodimus, mention of others

**Summary:** Ultra Magnus muses on the Matrix of Leadership.

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He'd never wanted the Matrix, and he suspected that it knew.

There was a difference, Ultra Magnus thought, between reluctant leadership and whatever it was he had displayed.

As he piloted their shuttle back to Cybertron – Rodimus dozing in the seat beside him – he wondered if, had someone else leapt to catch the Matrix, it would have chosen them instead.

Kup, Arcee, Perceptor, even Blurr. They had all been there at the last, it was only chance that Hot Rod had been standing in just the right place.

It had to have been chance; Ultra Magnus didn't believe in fate.

He glanced at Rodimus. The Prime's face was smooth in recharge, his worries temporarily forgotten. He must have had his sensors on high, though, because after a while he stirred and began to boot up.

Ultra Magnus could tell the moment that Rodimus' databanks engaged, and the weight of Cybertron's worries settled once again upon his shoulders. It was as though a tension spread through him, a subtle shift in his faceplates, a twitch of his fingers. It was uncomfortable to watch.

"Are we nearly there yet?" Rodimus yawned, stretching in his seat.

"Another four joors," Ultra Magnus replied. "You should use that time to rest."

The Prime shot him a grin. "I can rest when I'm rusting," he said. "You wanna hand over the controls? Looks like you could do with some downtime."

Ultra Magnus shook his head. "Don't joke like that," he said. If only he'd been worthy of Optimus's trust, of his legacy. If only he had _wanted_ the Matrix.

It never should have fallen to someone so young.

"Sorry," Rodimus said, suddenly serious. He slumped in his chair, one hand on his chest. His fingers scratched lightly at his pattern of flames, symptomatic perhaps of the same preoccupation that consumed Ultra Magnus's thoughts. "It's like Carly says," Rodimus sighed. "You either laugh or you cry."

"Wise words," Ultra Magnus conceded, and couldn't help but smile. Rodimus would always choose to laugh, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Whatever happened, it would help them carry on. They had no choice. Cybertron needed a Prime; the Prime needed his solider.

And no matter what Ultra Magnus had wanted, the Matrix had chosen one of them, for good or for ill, and had gotten both.


	5. Comfort, Hot Spot and First Aid

**Title:** Comfort

**Setting:** Dysfunction AU, a long while before Twister, and several weeks before Oil Slick.**  
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**Rating:** R**  
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**Content Advice:** fluff, non-explicit p'n'p

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"Hard day in medbay?" Hot Spot asked. He shuffled over on the huge human-style sofa, making room for First Aid to sit next to him.

"Umhmm." First Aid nodded and climbed into his lap.

That was a surprise, and a very pleasant one at that. "Worried about Blades?" Hot Spot asked.

Another nod, and the medic straddled Hot Spot's hips. He leaned his weight against Hot Spot's chest, his knees digging into the plush seats.

"Need to work off a little tension?"

No answer this time, but hands on Hot Spot's windshield, the tiny hiss of a retracting mask and the warm press of lips against his own. First Aid wriggled, one hand sliding around to the back of his commander's neck, the other moving down. Need pulsed through the bond, love, desire, hope, and fear as well, concern for Blades on his first solo mission, for Groove and Streetwise out on patrol.

"They'll be fine," Hot Spot whispered, and was rewarded with a smile.

"May I?" First Aid asked, fingers circling Hot Spot's interface cover. "Mmm, you're warm…"

Hot Spot laughed softly and drew back the cover. "Whatever you want," he said.


	6. Protectobots first time fic

**Setting:** G1, Dysfunction AU

**Content advice:** fluff, non-graphic p'n'p.

**Summary: ** In which the Protectobots attempt to figure out their p'n'p hardware.

**Notes:** Written for the 'How did they lose their virginity?' meme. This one's for femme4jack, who requested G1 First Aid.

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"The manual says here, here and here," First Aid said brightly, gesturing to ports on himself, Blades and Hot Spot. He held three connecters in one hand and two in the other. His team sat around him, in the middle of the rec room floor. Protectobot HQ wasn't exactly the best place to do this, but at least they wouldn't get interrupted as the Aerialbots had been.

"But what about ours?" Streetwise said. "That doesn't make a loop."

Hot Spot frowned at the diagram, holding it up this way and that. "This seems to indicate that Blades should feed back into himself... that doesn't sound right either."

"Perhaps we're reading it wrong," First Aid said uncertainly.

"Or maybe we just ought'a put the manual in the garbage and find out for ourselves?" Blades grinned and leaned over to nibble the back of First Aid's neck. The medic wriggled.

"I don't, hehe, I don't think you're treating this with the gravity it requires!" he managed, but anything else he'd planned on saying dissolved into giggles.

"Maybe we should call Ratchet?" Streetwise suggested.

Groove shook his head. "We can do this by ourselves," he said. "Mechs have been interfacing for millions of years; I'm sure they didn't all need a manual."

Hot Spot didn't look convinced, but Groove took a connector from First Aid's unresisting hand, and plugged it into one of his ports. "Ooooooh!" His optics flared and a wide smile spread over his face.

Blades's rotors clattered. "Whatever you did," he said, his voice muffled against First Aid's armour, "I think you did it right."

"OK," Hot Spot said. He took one more look at the manual, then threw it over his shoulder. It landed on the sofa with a thud. "Groove, Blades, let's do it your way."


	7. Sandstorm tries to improve morale

**Title:** Sandstorm's Plan to Boost Morale  
**Continuity:** G1, Dysfunction AU  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Contains:** implied off screen interfacing of the enthusiastically rough consensual variety.  
**Characters:** Ultra Magnus, Lightspeed, Afterburner, First Aid.  
**Summary:** Sandstorm had a plan. Ultra Magnus witnesses the aftermath.

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Ultra Magnus peered out of his office, lured by the clatter and clang of delicate-sounding metal. "What's all the commotion?" he asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Sandstorm!" Lightspeed yelled. He zoomed past, dragging a trolley full of emergency equipment.

"He had a plan," Afterburner added, trudging after his team mate. "Stupid plan, if you ask me."

"What plan?" Magnus asked.

Afterburner sighed and brought himself to a halt. "Plan to improve morale," he said. "'Cause Sky Lynx went and ran his mouth about the humans powering up that collider thing they made. The other Paradronians got all twitchy, he said it'd calm 'em down."

"Coming through!" Another trolley clattered into the corridor, this one pushed by a slightly frantic looking First Aid. "Excuse me! Mind your feet!"

By now, Ultra Magus was certain he didn't want to know. First Aid was in a hurry; that never boded well. But he asked anyway, on the basis that finding out now was better than getting a nasty surprise later on. "How did Sandstorm plan to improve morale?"

Afterburner made a fuss of getting himself out of First Aid's path. "He made a sign. It says 'The end is near. Have sex,' in big blue letters. Got a glittery red Autobot symbol on it and a length of cable to hang it around his neck."

"Afterbuner!" First Aid called, as he reached the outer door. "If you please! Your assistance is vital!"

"And he showed it to the Paradronians?" Magnus said. He could imagine a dozen different ways that could go wrong.

Afterburner heaved himself from the wall and began to trudge away. "He would have," he answered. "Only the Dinobots found him first." The Technobot sped up, responding to First Aid's frantic waving. "But don't worry," he added. "Last thing I saw he had a _big_ smile on his face."


	8. Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, cuddles

Rodimus/Ultra Magnus cuddlefic written for Macboris :)

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"This is far from an appropriate time," Ultra Magnus sat at his desk, trying to ignore the warm presence behind him. "I'm trying to work."

"You work too hard." Rodimus had his hands on Magnus' shoulders, chassis pressed against his back. "You should learn to relax."

Ultra Magnus read the same line of text for the third time, trying to sear the words into his mind. He wasn't going to give in. He was busy. Cybertron wouldn't run itself. But the glyphs fragmented, the meaning lost, and he was left with the solid thrum of Roddy's engine, and the gentle background purr of the Matrix.

When he put the stylus down, Roddy whooped. Then the Prime swung around him and into his lap. "All right!" he grinned. "Your desk or mine?"


End file.
